Six-Banana Banana Bread

Meghan set me up with a realtor, a woman named Paula, late 50s, Quincy native, brisk and kind. We met at Dunkin on Hancock Street Saturday morning at 9. I told her what I was looking for. Smaller than Hancock. Close enough to Southie for Sunday dinner (meaning 15 minutes max). A smaller yard. Good kitchen light. Good closets. A study for Liam to eventually have (he has started asking for a homework desk). A room for Nora that could be painted yellow.

Paula nodded. She said she will send me listings Tuesday. She said do not sell first. She said buy first then sell. I can carry that. Financially I am okay — Sean's life insurance plus my clinic pay plus the pension piece I started with the NP promotion. I will be fine.

Tuesday group. I said I am looking at houses. Bernadette said the geography of grief is real. The older widow said it took her a year to move her husband's razor off the bathroom counter. She said the moves are all emotional first.

Clinic — a patient of mine, 77 years old, came in with a new-onset tremor. I sent her to neurology. We will see. I am not at my best diagnostically when I am distracted. I focused.

Liam lost tooth number four Friday (upper lateral incisor). Three dollars from the tooth fairy. He said Mom maybe the tooth fairy is running out of money. I said maybe.

Saturday pancakes. Burned the first one. Slow morning. I thought about what kitchen I would like to make pancakes in for the next decade.

Sunday dinner at Southie. Ma made Irish stew — lamb, potatoes, carrots, onions, beef broth with a splash of Guinness. Ma's winter showpiece. I ate two bowls.

Food of the week: Irish stew. Lamb shoulder. Three hours. The onion cooks down completely. A little parsley at the end.

I burned the first pancake Saturday and stood there at the stove thinking about kitchens — good light, the right counter space, what it would feel like to make breakfast somewhere new. That slow morning had me wanting something I could put in the oven and just let go, something warm that would fill the house without me having to watch it every minute. I had six bananas going dark on the counter and that was reason enough. Banana bread is the kind of thing you make when you need the house to smell like something good.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 65 min | Total Time: 1 hr 20 min | Servings: 10 slices

Ingredients

6 very ripe bananas, mashed (about 2 1/2 cups)
2 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted
2 large eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon fine salt
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x5-inch loaf pan and set aside.
Mash the bananas. In a large bowl, mash all six bananas thoroughly with a fork until almost smooth — a few small lumps are fine and add texture.
Add wet ingredients. Stir the melted butter into the mashed bananas. Mix in the eggs and vanilla extract until combined.
Add sugar and leavening. Stir in the sugar, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Mix just until incorporated.
Fold in flour. Add the flour and fold gently until no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix — the batter should be thick and slightly lumpy.
Bake. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake for 60–65 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the top is deep golden brown.
Cool before slicing. Let the loaf rest in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a wire rack. Slice once mostly cooled for clean cuts.

Nutrition (per serving)

Six-Banana Banana Bread — The Kind of Baking That Holds a House Together